Sooner Rather Than Later
by brassband777
Summary: Teenchester! John asks Dean to do something, but Dean decides to put it off until later. WARNING: Parental spanking of a teenager. If this offends, please do not read.


**Title****: **Sooner Rather than Later  
**Author****:** Brassband777  
**Characters****:** Dean (18 yrs), John, Sam (13 yrs).  
**Scenario****:** Teen!chester, discipline fic.  
**Summary****:** Dean is asked to do something by his Dad, but he decides to put it off until later.  
**Author's Notes/Warnings****:** Warning: parental spanking of an older teen.

**Sooner Rather than Later:**

Eighteen-year-old Dean Winchester lounged on the sofa, impatiently flicking through the TV channels, while waiting for his thirteen- year-old kid brother to arrive home from his sleepover. He wished Sam would hurry up! His friends had arranged a get-together at the local heated swimming pool and he knew for a fact that Laura Conniston would be there. Just thinking of the pretty cheerleader increased his heart rate. He wanted to get there as quickly as possible, not wanting to miss any of the fun, particularly fun involving a certain flirty, curvy, brunette member of the cheerleading squad.

He sighed as he dumped the TV remote and picked up a car magazine. It never entered his head to go to the pool, leaving a note for his brother explaining where he had gone, because Sam always came first. Sam was _his_ responsibility. No, he had to be there to welcome his geek brother home and check he was all right, as well as find out what plans the kid had for the day, before he would allow himself to leave.

A key in the lock made Dean immediately go into hunter mode, even though he knew it would just be Sammy and he reached one arm behind the sofa ready to grab the shotgun hidden there if necessary.

John Winchester strode into the room, dropping the weapons bag on the table. "Hey, Dean."

Dean stood up with a grin. "Hi, Dad. Wasn't expecting you back off the hunt for another two days."

"We got lucky. Is your brother back from that sleepover he was going to yet?"

"Uh-uh." Dean shook his head. "Speaking of which, now that you're here to check the runt's okay, do you mind if I go out? I've arranged to meet some friends…."

John cut him off. "Sorry, Dean, but I'm goin' over to that new library a couple of towns over to do some research. It's supposed to be pretty impressive! I also want you to check and reload all the weapons for me before you go spend time with your friends."

"Can't I do it when I get back?" asked Dean, looking towards the weapons bag that his Dad had indicated with dismay.

"No, Dean. You've _always_ got to be prepared. What would happen if a monster came charging through that door right now and none of the weapons were loaded?"

Dean had to forcibly prevent himself from rolling his eyes – that would so not go down well with John Winchester! _As if a monster really would come charging through the door!_

Dean realised that his Dad was looking at him as if he expected an answer.

"Yes, sir, I'll get right on it."

He moved over to the table and sat down, giving an inaudible sigh as he opened the weapons bag and picked up a .45.

John reached out and ruffled Dean's hair as he walked past. "Good, boy."

Dean grinned up at his father. "Hey, I'm an adult now, not a _boy_."

John laughed. "You've been eighteen for two whole weeks and you're all so grown up now are you? Don't make me any lunch, I'm planning on making a full day of it, so won't be back until six or seven this evening."

Dean had checked and reloaded exactly two weapons when Sam arrived home. He listened to his baby brother prattle excitedly for five minutes non-stop about his sleepover, before managing to get a word in edgeways.

"Dad's back…"

"Where is he?" Sam looked around eagerly for any sign of the Winchester patriarch.

"Gone out." Dean didn't miss how his brother's face fell at this news and was quick to reassure. "But he'll be back tonight, Sammy, so don't worry. He's not hunting, just researching. What you planning on doing today, kiddo?"

"Just chillin', reading and watching TV. What you gonna do?"

Dean looked back at the weapons bag and then at the clock. Everyone else would have met at the pool an hour ago. He was torn – it went totally against his nature to disobey his father, but he wasn't sure how long his friends were planning on staying out. It might only be until lunchtime.

"I'm goin' out to meet some friends," replied Dean, finally coming to a decision.

He _would_ check and reload the weapons for his father, but he'd do it when he got home. His Dad would never know and what his Dad didn't know wouldn't hurt him, Dean rationalised. "If I'm not home for lunch, there's some stuff in the fridge to make a sandwich."

"Okay, Dean, have fun." Sam already had his nose buried in a book.

**Supernatural ~ Supernatural ~ Supernatural ~**

Dean decided he had definitely made the right choice as he sat by the poolside with Laura sitting in his lap, her hands entwined in his hair.

Although Dean hated high school and couldn't wait for it to end in a few months' time, it did have some perks – cheerleaders being one of them! He'd been at the pool for four hours now and they were just waiting for their order of burgers and fries to arrive.

Dean caressed Laura's cheek with his hand, before leaning in for a kiss.

Unbeknownst to Dean, at the exact moment that the two teenagers kissed, John Winchester arrived home.

Sam looked up in surprise when his father entered, before jumping up and running over to hug him. "Hi, Dad, Dean said you wouldn't be back until tonight."

John returned his baby boy's hug. "Change of plan, Sammy. Caleb called….he needs back-up with a hunt for a skin-walker. I'll be back either very late tonight or first thing tomorrow morning. Now behave yourself and listen to Dean."

He dropped a kiss on the top of Sam's head before going over to the table and hoisting the weapons bag onto his shoulder.

"You can tell me all about your sleepover when I get back. Okay Tiger?" John called over his shoulder as he made his way out to his waiting truck.

**Supernatural ~ Supernatural ~ Supernatural ~**

Dean looked at his watch with a sigh. He needed to get a move on. It was only quarter to four, but he couldn't risk his dad coming home early and finding out he'd disobeyed an order. He knew it would take at least an hour and a half to check and reload all the weapons, but he might be able to bribe Sam into helping him. With a final kiss he stood up and waved to Laura, before making his way to the Impala. He still couldn't believe that it was really his! His father had given the car to him as his eighteenth birthday present.

When he arrived home, Sam was sprawled in front of the TV.

"Hey, Squirt," greeted Dean as he moved over to the table. He immediately froze. "Sammy, what have you done with the weapons bag?"

Sam didn't look up from the TV as he replied, so he missed Dean's reaction. "Dad took it. Caleb called so he's gone to help. A skin-walker he said."

Dean paled, having to clutch at the table for support, feeling as if his legs were going to give way. After a moment, he forced his unwilling limbs to move and stumbled into the kitchen where the phone was situated. Dean didn't care how much trouble he would be in, he needed to ring his Dad and confess, before he went up against a skin-walker with an unloaded weapon.

He rang his Dad's emergency cell phone first, only to be told that the call couldn't be connected. Dean swore aloud, before dialling Caleb's home number. That just rang and rang, nobody picked up. Dean took a couple of deep breaths to calm himself. He couldn't let Sammy know, the kid would understandably freak out. _He _was freaking out!

Plastering a fake grin on his face, Dean returned to Sam in the living room. "Uh, Sammy, Dad didn't happen to say where he and Caleb were going did he?"

"No…. why? He just said he'd be back really late tonight or tomorrow morning."

"Oh, no reason."

Sam turned to look at Dean as he replied. He studied his older brother's face for a moment.

"Are you okay, Dean?" he asked worriedly.

Darn it, the kid was too perceptive for his own good! Knowing that he had failed to hide the fact that there was something wrong with him from his younger brother, Dean decided to lie.

"Actually, I'm not feeling very well. I'm gonna go lie down for a bit, okay?"

"Sure," replied Sam, eyeing Dean with concern, "If you need anything, just yell."

Dean wanted to scream, he wanted to punch the wall, he wanted to throw things, anything to relieve the tension and fear within him. For his baby brother's sake, he kept it locked down. He hadn't eaten anything for supper at all, using the excuse that he still didn't feel well. He had tried ringing his Dad on and off throughout the afternoon and evening with the same result as earlier.

At last, at ten o'clock, Sam finally went up to bed and Dean was able to drop his façade. He began to pace, his pent-up anxiety needing an outlet, otherwise he would explode. Horrific scenarios kept playing themselves through his head and he was unable to avert them – all of them ending up with John Winchester maimed or dead, because the weapon that he was depending on didn't function. Some ended with both John _and_ Caleb dead, as John was unable to watch Caleb's back with a dud pistol.

Time lost all meaning for Dean, trapped as he was in the clutches of self-inflicted mental torture. He didn't notice the sun beginning to rise on the horizon and he physically jumped when the phone in the kitchen rang. Springing into action, before the ringing woke Sammy, Dean darted into the kitchen and picked up. He felt like he couldn't breathe – what if this was someone ringing to say that John Winchester was dead?

"Hello?" his voice cracked and was barely audible.

"Dean? Is that you?" came John Winchester's voice – the most welcome sound in the world to Dean.

Dean's consciousness took in the fact that his father's voice sounded not only strong, but also incensed. _Surely that meant he wasn't injured?_

Dean suddenly found that his legs wouldn't support him anymore and he sank to the floor, still cradling the phone to his ear.

"Dad, are you okay? Is Caleb okay? I'm so so sorry!"

John heard the unadulterated panic in Dean's voice and found himself reassuring instead of yelling, which had been his first inclination.

"We're both fine, son. No injuries at all. We got the skin-walker. Well, Caleb did, because his weapon actually fired, unlike mine!"

"I'm so sorry," whimpered Dean again, the relief that was washing over him, bringing tears to his eyes, which he stubbornly forced back.

"I'll be home in two hours, we'll talk about it then."

**Supernatural ~ Supernatural ~ Supernatural ~**

Sam was up by the time that John Winchester arrived home. He knew there was something wrong with his older brother, but Dean had totally clammed up and wouldn't talk. As usual, Sam ran and hugged his Dad and John hugged him back tightly. It was then, that Sam noticed that Dean was hanging back and was staring at his feet. Dean was always glad when their father came home. _What was going on?_

"Sammy, I want you to go up to your room for a bit, okay? Until I come to get you. I need to talk to your brother."

_Uh-oh_, thought Sam, catching the steely note in his father's voice and also noticing the grim expression on his face. Dean was definitely in serious trouble, but for the life of him, Sam couldn't figure out what he'd done. He cast a sympathetic glance in Dean's direction before scampering upstairs.

John contemplated his eldest's downcast demeanour for a moment. He was beyond furious. What Dean had done could have gotten both him and Caleb killed. If it hadn't been for Caleb's quick thinking, John would have been seriously injured, if not worse.

"Dean, look at me!" his voice was stern, unyielding.

Dean slowly raised his gaze to meet his father's. Utter dejection and defeat exuded from it. He was incredibly pale and his sleepless night was evidenced in the dark circles beneath his eyes. One look at his totally demoralised boy and John's anger melted away. John knew without a doubt from his broken expression that Dean not only comprehended what he had done wrong, but that he was also fully aware of the possible wider repercussions of his choice.

Even though he was no longer angry, John knew the teenager still needed to be punished.

"Here's the thing, Dean, I'm not going to talk to you about what you've done wrong or give you the lecture about how all of our choices have consequences, because you already know that. So I'm going to get right to the point and give you the hardest spanking you've ever experienced. Come here."

Dean, even filled as he was with self-hatred, was surprised at his father's words.

"But I'm eighteen, Dad, I'm an adult."

"So you think just because you've hit some magic number that it won't hurt anymore?"

"No, but…"

"You think you don't deserve this?" John quietly asked, studying Dean - the guilt and self-loathing were written all over his young face.

"Yes, sir, I deserve to be punished…..I deserve a lot worse, you should hate me, I could've gotten you killed," he murmured, dropping his gaze again to the floor, his voice so soft that John almost couldn't catch what he said.

"Dean, listen to me," John reached out and placed two fingers under his chin, gently tilting the boy's head back up and forcing him to look at him, "Yes, you deserve to be punished and yes, you deserve a severe one, but everyone makes mistakes. The important thing is that we learn from them. And I most definitely don't hate you! You're my son and I'll _always_ love you no matter what you do!"

Dean's eyes were glistening with unshed tears, but as usual, the teen refused to let them fall.

John took hold of Dean's wrist and led the unresisting boy over to the sofa. "Jeans down," he ordered softly and waited patiently while Dean fumbled with his button and zip before pushing them down to his knees.

"I'm sorry, Dad," he murmured.

"I know you are, son," said John as he pulled Dean across his lap. He paused to gather his thoughts. Hating himself, but knowing that he had to do this. He would be failing as a father if he didn't and he knew that Dean also needed the emotional release that this would provide.

He took a deep breath and began spanking the boxer-clad bottom in front of him. His swats were heavy and solid, but he carefully measured the force that he put behind each one.

Upstairs, Sam heard the first painful slaps connecting with his brother's buttocks and quickly shoved the earphones from his walkman in and cranked up the volume – he could never bear to hear Dean being punished.

After two minutes of solid spanking, John paused to assess his eldest's condition. Dean had yet to make a sound during this spanking. He had no doubts that Dean was gritting his teeth to keep from crying out. His son was also completely rigid due the physical effort it was taking to remain still and in position without any resistance. He decided that it was time to move onto stage two and begin to break through Dean's defences, so he paused in his spanking and reached for the waistband of his son's boxers.

Dean hated being in this humiliating position to begin with, but when he felt his father moving to strip him of his last vestiges of dignity, he automatically reached back his hand to try and prevent it.

"No, Dad, please."

John simply ignored Dean's plea and captured his wrist with the hand that was securing him in place, while quickly yanking his underwear down to his knees with the other.

Dean's backside was already bright red. The contrast between it and the milky white skin of his upper thighs was startling. John set about changing that, landing a flurry of painful swats to the previously untouched area.

Dean bit back a yelp. He knew he deserved this, but he desperately hoped that his father would stop soon, because he really wasn't sure how much longer he could hold out. And there was no way he was going to cry! He was officially an adult for flip's sake!

After spanking Dean's bare rear end and turning it an even darker shade of crimson, John decided it was time to move onto stage three. This time, when he raised his hand, he brought it down with double the force that he had previously been using. The reaction from Dean was immediate – a strangled cry escaped his lips, while his hips bucked automatically, trying to escape the pain.

John continued spanking at this level, now needing to actively keep hold of his squirming son to prevent him from falling off his lap.

The waterworks started after unyielding spank number six. Dean knew his Dad had _never_ hit him this hard before. "**Oww**, Dad I'm **Oww** sorry. Really **Oww**! Please stop **Oww**!"

John hardened his heart and ignored Dean's pleas. He knew his boy was crying, but he wanted the floodgates to open properly. He concentrated some of his extra hard swats directly on Dean's sensitive sit-spots and the teen finally cracked, breaking into harsh sobs. To finish the spanking, John gave him a further ten blistering swats, before resting his hand on Dean's lower back.

"It's over Dean, all done."

Dean lay limp over his Dad's lap, the sobs shaking his whole body, his backside literally feeling like it was on fire.

John let his son lie there for a few minutes, rubbing soothing circles on his back, letting his sobs gradually become quieter. Then he gently pulled Dean's boxers back up over his abused bottom – the teen hissed inadvertently through his teeth as this reignited the sting – before pulling him upright into his lap, careful to keep the boy's scorched rear end between his knees.

Dean immediately wrapped his arms around his Dad's neck and buried his head into John's t-shirt, covering him in tears and snot. John didn't mind, he held his boy close and dropped a tender kiss on the top of his head.

"I'm so s-sorry, Dad," he sniffled, "I'll never do anything like that again!"

"I know you won't. You're okay, Dean. It's forgiven and forgotten. Clean slate, remember?"

Dean remained in the safety and comfort of his father's embrace until his tears halted completely, which was a good twenty minutes later. Dean didn't understand it, his backside was still in agony (and he suspected it would be for a few days to come!), but he felt released, liberated somehow. He slowly disentangled himself from his father's arms and wiped the back of his hand across his eyes for the final time.

"Sheesh, Dad, I'm not gonna be able to sit down for a week! And I'm not kidding either," groaned Dean, kicking his jeans off from around his ankles – he couldn't bear the thought of pulling them back up over his tenderised skin.

"Well, if you'd just crack sooner," grinned John, relieved to see that the expression of self-loathing and guilt had completely faded from the boy's face.

"What?" spluttered Dean, "So you were just waiting for me to bawl like a baby?"

John nodded with another grin.

"Old Man, you should never have told me that 'cause next time I'm so gonna cry after swat number two!" An impish grin lit up Dean's features.

"Oh, so there _is_ going to be a next time then?" teased John, "But I thought you were an adult, Dean?"

Dean backpedalled quickly. "Uh-uh! No way! Definitely not! No more spankings for Dean Winchester!"


End file.
